Page 17 of Cowboys at Coconuts

Willow’s voice broke. “I thought you were more than my Hilltop colleague, Hope. I thought you were my friend.” Her eyes welled with tears. “Honestly, I don’t expect a wedding shower or anything, but a genuine smile would be nice. I’ve never been married before. Mac and I are so hap—”

“He’s still married to Montana.” Crossing the room, Hope forced herself to embrace Willow in a stiff, awkward hug. “I’m sorry, but he is.”

Willow wept on Hope’s shoulder. “Mac and I are in love. Why are you ruining this for us?” She sniffled. “He doesn’t remember being called Larry. He doesn’t remember a Montana. Period. End of story.”

After Willow wiped her nose, Hope put both hands on Willow’s shoulders. “It’s not the end of the story. Don’t you remember I told you I thought the woman in the photo a few months ago was the same woman who raised me? Both she and Larry were thought killed in a tragic train crash. If that’s her in the Nashville nursing home, she’s married to Larry.” Pacing, Hope said, “I never thought you two would move this fast.”

The art teacher glared at Hope. “Mac doesn’t remember her. He says his real name is Mac. I believe him.” Willow’s face hardened. “Maybe you’re wrong. Did you ever consider that? We all supposedly have doppelgangers.”

Hope’s pulse skyrocketed.I think I’d know who raised me.Mac’s damn name is Larry. He and Montana were married. They adopted and raised me. I screwed everything up by not insisting we go immediately to see her when I saw that article. My adopted father not only doesn’t remember me, his wife, nor his name now, he’s also a freaking polygamist.

“Earth to Hope,” Willow said.

Hope glanced out the window as latecomers ran into the building. Weighing her words as lockers clanged in the hallway, she reached for the document. “Let me see that.”

Hope examined the page, noting the date, time, and signature by two witnesses she didn’t recognize. Suddenly wishing she knew when her adopted parents, Larry and Montana, had gotten married. She couldn’t remember the day but it must have been over forty years ago. They had never been lovey-dovey, nor sentimental about anniversaries. She wasn’t sure if she was a baby or toddler when they adopted her. Making a mental note to ask her biological dad, Paul, if he knew when they married, she stalled.What does the date even matter? This union isn’t legal.

Both women turned toward an insistent knock on the door.

“Miss Truman, sorry to interrupt but will you let me know when you can chat about stuff.” Hope’s favorite student, Britney, stared at her dirty tennis shoes. “I need help getting my GPA up, so I can try to get those college scholarships we talked about. You know my mom and I can’t afford—”

Willow turned to Hope. “We’ll finish this discussion later.” Glancing at the clock on the wall, she said, “I’m off to my art class. Miss Truman’s all yours, Britney.”

“Um, congratulations, I guess,” Hope muttered. Reaching for her desk, she felt wobbly.

“Are you okay, Miss Truman?” Britney asked.

“I’m fine.” Hope made herself switch gears and put on her counseling hat. “Now about your grade point average. Which classes do you need help with?” Opening her top drawer, she said, “I have a list of tutors for every subject. They’ll help you get your grades up, Brit.”

Wriggling into a chair, Britney said, “Does tutoring cost anything because you know I don’t have—”

“It won’t cost a dime. Seniors tutor students for free. They receive extra credit and other perks. Don’t worry.” Hope glanced at the list of students broken down by subject matter. “Which class do you need help with?”

Britney sighed. “Math, English, history, and science.” Shrugging, the student grinned. “Apparently the only thing I’m good at is art.”

Hope chuckled. “You’re very good at that. I see that gorgeous peacock you painted on the back of Willow’s van every day.” Scanning the list of names, she said, “You’re going to be a busy girl. Better clear four afternoons after school to study each subject.”

“I will, Miss Truman. I promise. You know how much I need the scholarships.”

“I’ll research art scholarships as well, but you’ll still need to get you GPA up to even be considered into college.”

Britney’s shoulders slumped. “Even a community college?”

“Yes. You can do it, Brit. I know you can. What’s your GPA now?”

Frowning, Britney said, “I think it’s 2.1. Maybe 2.0.”

“You’re a bright girl. I’m sure with training, you can get that up, maybe to a 3.0 or higher.”

Britney’s eyes bulged. “I’m not that smart.”

“Yes, you are.” Hope noticed a new zit had formed on the tip of Britney’s nose, which she wasn’t about to point out. The poor kid couldn’t catch a break, even when it came to her complexion.

The instant Hope gave the students’ phone numbers to Britney for the respective subjects, she made a beeline to find the janitor.I’ve got to talk Larry-Mac into going to Nashville pronto before the entire school and community find out he’s married. Again.

Chapter 17

After another heated phone conversation with her main chef at Fifth Avenue Catering in New York City, Cheri wished she hadn’t Skyped with Chef O’Leary. Trying to maintain a nondescript demeanor as she stared at his twisted, red face, she knew she had to let her hot-tempered Irish chef get his frustration about Julio off his chest.

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